Little Wings
by Namekiansgottalovethem
Summary: He heard the cry of another dragon coming from the human kingdom that night on Aurora's sixteenth birthday. He'd discovered another of his ancient kind, having believed himself to be the last, he vows to find the other dragon and claim them as his own. Little does he expect... Well, Diaval. (Originally posted on Ao3, but all my stuff is on here too so might as well)
1. Chapter 1

The cursed netting weighed down his ivory black wings. To struggle meant greater entanglement and the unavoidable sting of cheap rope yanking sharply against the many layers of soft feathers. To lie still would only ensure a grubby ending, beaten into the dirt with a crude club until the light of life dulled in his birdly eyes and winked out. Diaval's simple heart pounded inside his heaving chest as he fought against the human snare, squawking and beating his wings helplessly.

The hunter whooped and hollered with glee, no doubt celebrating the catch of his next kill. With every harsh snarl and warning growl from the wretched dog the crow flinched and thrashed harder, giving it all his might to escape something so terribly final as death.

All too soon Diaval's strength gave and he abandoned his fight for life. He shut his eyes, no one should have to watch this, and when he opened them again the horrid human and mangy mutt were nowhere in sight. He felt dizzy and strangely proportioned, like his spirit had been stretched to fill in a gaping space that didn't belong with his being. Diaval tried to spread his wings wide and immediately knew something was terribly wrong. He lifted the odd appendages that had reacted in his wings stead, bringing them up to his astonished face for gross inspection.

Hands! Wha-!?

Suddenly frightened by what he suspected he would find, the confused crow looked down. What was supposed to be a horrified caw came out as a startled squeak.

That definitely didn't belong to him!

That dark presence he'd met the day before high on the mountain top, taking refuge in the blackened ruins of an age of the Moors long past, was very much there, standing next to him. Magic, raw and great, drifted lazily about the wingless fairy's grounded body, cooling down from performing a spell of changing only seconds ago. Diaval's human brows nit together in bewilderment.

He asked her, "What have you done to my beautiful self?"  
...

Being Maleficent's servant wasn't too bad.

The world had lost its brilliant clarity, everything about him marred by a slight blur from the limited vision of his stupid human eyes. Luckily His mistress let him spend most of his time in his first form as it's perfect size and flight capabilities made for superb spy work.

Snooping on the humans was a regular thing he did now, Maleficent's vengeful vendetta sent him from the Moors every morning to see whatever dirt he could glean for her advantage. Diaval didn't mind. All he'd done before was observe the world and it's creatures doings from his known place in the sky. The only difference was how closely he perched above the human's heads to watch and listen. No real need for stealth, as a lowly crow his very existence made him invisible, people stared past him, not giving his out of place appearance atop laundry lines a second thought.

Not much ever really happened in the castle but today the very air tasted of change. The maids were scurrying about laughing and crying, "Its a girl! Did you hear, the queen has given king Stephen a little princess!"

This was news and Diaval promptly took flight to report back to his expecting mistress... Although, an uncertain part of him worried over what sorts of action she might take against the traitorous king and undeserving queen.

It never dawned on him that she might ever bring any harm to the innocent babe herself.  
...

Diaval set flame to every knight and susceptible object within range. His magnificent beast of a form glittering a death harboring black in the orange rage of his fire. Now this was a creature he'd never complain of becoming. Raw power seeped from his every feather-like scale and manifested in his thunderous roars of fury. His razor sharp beak scissored and snapped spears and swords in two. His armored tail swung with crushing precision, downing handfuls of soldiers in mighty sweeps. Long claws, edged with surated barbs, tore through the thickest of chain mails. It felt as though he could do anything.

Then the metal ropes came.

The loyal dragon had just enough time to tear the fairy flesh burning trap off of his mistress just as the constricting chains around his neck ripped Diaval away from her. He thrashed and breathed out jets of searing heat, trying to fatally maim the men struggling to hold him there. Every chain he snapped was replaced by three more and no matter how many humans he killed more seemed to take up their places. The hard forged links of metal scraped and dug into his heavy plating, riddling him with friction burns. He snarled unintelligible curses and swiped at the soldiers hurting him.

They made a brilliant move and crossed the chains wrapped around his birdlike limbs and pulled viciously, bringing his legs out from under him. Unable to use his great wings, Diaval's massive expanse slammed harshly to the ground, rendering him useless. He heard a pain pierced scream and cried out in response to his fairy's plight. His great head whipped from side to side, trying to locate his mistress.

Maleficent lay a torturous distance out of his reach, surrounded by haneous iron shields and murderous intentions.

And the despairing fear that overcame Diaval was all too dreadfully familiar. The delirious racing of his heart, the stark realization of looming death, and the agonizing helplessness to do anything about it was just the same it had been when his mistress saved his life all those years ago.

Did fate truly hate him so much?

Maleficent's horns made a sickening crack when Stephen hurled her battered body into the stone steps below the thrones.

Diaval shrieked and tried to claw his way across the ground, to drag the soldiers, chains and all, with him to be by her side.

It would have been easier to pass on that first time when it was only his measly life futilely grasping at nonexistent leverage in the balance. The loving servant could not bear for the beautifully dark, corrupted by an utterly tragic betrayal, yet stubbornly blinding light, renewed by the healing influence of an wondrous child's fearless love, soul of his mistress to be dampened out by the hate of a sorry man. A foolish man who had lost sight of his supposed righteous purpose. Could he not hear the pleading cries of his only daughter? Would her heartbroken tears fall unnoticed, taking her innocent trusting nature to it's ruin, splattered against the unstable foundation of a hapless kingdom?

Diaval couldn't see, nor hear, Aurora anymore. He hoped she'd listened to Maleficent and run from the smoke choking room, from the scarring sight of her godmother's sure ending, from the long string of pointless wrongs that separated their vastly different worlds.

He was deaf to the powerful, hope bearing strokes of once lost wings as the puncturing head of a spear entered his unguarded side.  
...

An echoing, tortured wail rent the dense solidity of night and scattered the stars to uncharted corners of the vast heavens. A message of extreme pain, of unspeakable loss, a declaration that someone had surrendered to their grief. It was a sound the ancient one had not dared hope would grace his lonesome self ever again.

The cry of a dragon.

The instant he heard it was the very moment he memorized the signature of his faceless kindred. Silently, ever so desperately, Aquill willed the other to survive whatever trial they were undergoing. He was never a creature of any sort of faith, but now the once feared fire drake pleaded, begged whomever was out there that would listen, to please spare the one who screamed for relief of their burdened existence.

To his immense joy the other's lifelight remained, however weak, throughout that night. And in the early hours of the next morn Aquill departed from his hollow home in the mountainside, surging out into the world to search for his desired mate.

"I will find you lost one. Hold on, for I am coming."  
...

Well, lucky for him, Diaval was very much alive, and could not help but speculate dryly that if they had found and smashed the case holding her wings eons ago none of this dramatic shit need have happened.

He said as much, "You know, Maleficent, if you had ordered me to find your wings earlier you wouldn't have acted like such a cranky bi-" his mistress applied warning pressure to his patched up wound, "-cranky person for sixteen years and I would have both of my kidneys."

All he received in reply was the lofty lifting of a curved brow and a barely concealed smirk. He yelped a little when the fairy sliced his bandage apart with one pointed nail and the wet gash in his side throbbed in response to the cool air that tickled his reddened flesh. He watched, fascinated, as Maleficent's green glowing power gathered at her fingertips and she blew him healing kiss. The bleeding stopped with the closing of his mending skin, and, aside from his incurable personality, Maleficent was pleased with the outcome. She patted his raven head and laughed lightly when he glared.

"Your not even a little sorry for me, are you mistress?"

The elegant lady leaned forward to fetch the tattered remnants of crimson stained wrappings, her curved horns almost grazing his soot smeared cheek. Their eyes met and something close to fondness passed between them. She would never tell him, but he was more than just her petulant servant, a... dear friend. Although it would be hilarious as hell, Diaval would never let it slip that he knew this. Knowingly, the grumpy birdman smiled and crooked a finger under her nose, cheekily beckoning for an apology that was years off in the coming.

Guessing his wish, her shoulders lifted in a mock uncaring shrug, "I did tell you, you could stay behind."

"And enable that horrendous ego of yours mistress? I'd never hear the end of it!" Diaval cleared his throat and when next he spoke his voice rang high pitched in imitation of his mistress, " 'I did it without you Diaval. I saved Aurora and regained my magnificent wings all on my own Daival. I faced near insurmountable odds and overcame adversity and where were you, Diaval? Outside, preening your grubby feathers and getting off on the struggling of others. What good are you to me Diaval?"

Maleficent rolled her unique eyes, "I can hear you, you know."

"You were actually listening for once?"

"Don't let it get to your head."

"Never, mistress."

They shared a laugh. Maleficent did appreciate all that Diaval sacrificed to help her, truly she did. The years would've been long and boring if not for his cynical company and childlike humor. After last night she felt he deserved a break.

"Diaval," she addressed her dependable crow warmly, "I won't be requiring your services for these next few days. You can fly off and do whatever it is you simple things do."

Diaval actually managed to pull off humble gratitude, lowering his head and whispering, "Thank you, mistress."  
...

The hidden cove Diaval discovered was the most pristine, relaxing sight he'd had the time to enjoy in a whole whopping sixteen years. Of course it might have just been the sparkling sheen of the noonday rays playing off every ripple traveling across the water's surface that appealed to his glitter fancy and attracted him so, but the place was quite cozy. Tiny luminous pixies of every color danced and glided to the rhythm natures natural flow, pleasant, silent company. The merry trickling of a little giggling waterfall lulled him into a half drowsed state and he resolved to treat himself to a blissful evening of lazy lounging on his steady perch up high in an old willow.

There was a cool breeze that settled his black feathers rather nicely against his skin, a fuzzy feeling warmth from the natural light radiating off the sky-strung sun, and the beautiful absence of crazy, spear wielding, men. It was the ideal retreat for a far too prolonged vacation.

Unfortunately, with nothing in the way to do that was urgent, or any scum to spy on, the immobile foul's mind was left to dwell on any and all thoughts. He thought about his current living of life and what could possibly lay ahead of him.

He'd proven efficiently competent and useful as a servant. It made him overly proud to know that he'd had a direct wing in bringing about Maleficent's current happiness, and now with the two kingdoms united she really didn't need him anymore. What if she set him free?

Diaval had nowhere else to go, no people to visit, no place to call his own, and while he was quite sure that was the way of his race he'd spent too long as a humanoid for this to not irk him a tad bit. He'd found that the aspirations of happy endings and mystical romances Aurora was always going on about intrigued him somewhat more than they should have. He wished for some of his own a tad ruefully, and accused himself as weak for such foolish wishing.

Diaval simply couldn't picture anything of the likes happening for him. His body had undergone so many transformations, been manipulated and infused with deep magic so many times that now a magic of his own flowed through his veins and fueled his every life-pumping heartbeat. He probably wouldn't live the normal lifespan of the average crow and he had evolved to such a complicated state of mind that he wouldn't choose another bird as his lifelong companion. He believed no human would have him either, for the strange markings and unmistakable scars covering his man form.

He scoffed at his wayward thinking and shook his feathered head to try and clear it of this madness. Why was he thinking of all this naive, teenage prattle. (At least for Diaval. There is such a thing as true love, but not for an out of place freak like him) It only brought him disappointment and bothersome emotions. He was a realist not a masochist.

...and- honestly -some people were never destined for love... Like_ him_.

A smartly confused creature lay hidden in the tall brush, large caramel eyes locked on the ridiculously small bird. The aged lizard wasn't often tripped up like this. No, he'd thought, with all the improbable messes and catastrophes he'd witnessed (been a part of) he'd seen it all. But it- ...It wasn't right... that- THAT- thing! -felt so similarly like his new mate, but... No. Not alike... Exactly like the dragon he was in search of. As in, one and the very same being. Their magic, their aura, their life signature, their everything...

Aquill had come this far, waited for seemingly forever, finally believed he could be with another dragon and... And now he hadn't a clue whether to rage, cry, or to blow this silly pond to ash and fly back to that self made prison he termed home and... be alone till the ending of his days: of time.

Aquill felt the start of wetness pool in the creased indents of his eyes and something inside him slipped. Dragon or not... He'd made his decision.


	2. Chapter 2

The surface of the crystal water became distorted, choppy ripples indicating more behind the disturbance than the whistling breeze. Diaval shifted, pulling his wings in snug to his sides and cocking his head side to side, his keen eyes raking the green life that swayed into the growing drag of wind surrounding him.

Sometime between his depressing thoughts and the sudden change in the weather the native pixies had ceased their play and scattered, leaving the unease in the air to the lone crow. While it bothered him, he didn't want to dwell much on the possible 'why's' of their departure. Out loud he gave a dismissive huff and a grumbled, "Good ridense."

Secretly, the not completely foul, not entirely full blooded man (not quite anything really) felt torn inside. Diaval knew his feeling that way was a little over dramatic, but lately his emotions were flowing rather liberally in the offended department.

They didn't run away because of something he'd done... right?

The bright sphere hanging lazily in the sky shone high and true, yet the place seemed bereft of its presence somehow. As if the golden rays had forgotten to bring the warmth of the sun with them from the heavens to the enchanted forest floor. An unbidden, unwanted, sense of lonely and irritation came out to mess with his already frattled mind.

His temporary getaway to enjoy the beauty and daily happenings of the moors was tarnished in an inexplicably frustrating way. He'd been cozy and content for a blissfully rare while before his mental stewing blackened the bottom of his happy-well. Why'd his unruly brain have to nitpick the uncertainties of his future just now?! It was unfair! The day was young, the forest teaming with friendlies (at least everywhere else other than Diaval's immediate radius) and wondrous sights never experienced by human eyes. The lack of a needy mistress and her all consuming burdens to take upon his sleek back as he attempted to lighten the immense load of twisted betrayal off the subtly pointed tips of her fairy horns was so surreal he was tempted to cry. And yet the forest unnerved him with it's acute stillness and suspicious quite. The eery quality of the atmosphere was enough for him to decide that his day of relaxation was calling it early quits and he hated this feeling that he was being...

It hit him like a goblin tossed mud ball right in the face.

A nonexistent third eye and ages honed sixth sense accompanied by a mounting fear all but shrieked that another shared the little cove with Diaval. The feathers along his back bristled, the underlying skin rising with nerve prickled bumps. Diaval shivered and his shallow breathing faltered.

'What in the hell?...' He asked no one in his head.

Someone- something -was watching him, directly behind his tree, lurking like an otherworldly shadow in the ivied brush.

The thing's aura emitted chilling waves of guess-how-big-and-nasty-I-am. With a total of zero desire in finding out, Diaval made to desert his no longer welcoming branch when the thing made a 'sound' at him.

He nearly fell.

'What- What is that-!? What in the hell kind of creature on God's cursed earth sounds like THAT!?'

He went rigid, frightened. Diaval's survival instincts evaluated his predicament and came to the ever obvious conclusion that to remain sitting duck was a fatal folly and to start high-tailing it. He didn't move. Couldn't move. He'd never wanted to be gone so badly as he needed to be right then. But in the tree he stayed, unable to control the bodily function that granted him flight.

Twigs and needles snapped, painfully loud to Diaval's ears.

'Not good!'

He flinched, wanting to scream like a little human girl. A low whoosh and rustling of plants announced that the thing knew he knew it was there, seeming to have figured the element of surprise was shattered and wanting to get his murder over with.

Didn't Maleficent once say that her great wings never failed her, not once? What had god done wrong when he'd made Diaval's? Used faulty material? Where did this line of thinking come from?! Whatever, he was calling foul play...

He could hear the earth's soil sink and crumble under dooming, heavy steps. The footage from the thicker vegetation to his tree was next to nonexistent and the thing had already covered over half.

'You've got to be kidding with me, this thing's huge! Oh, please!'

The poor bird wanted very badly to look back and take in the build and features of his will-be killer, ingrain it's image into his memory so he could remember which unlucky bastard to come back and haunt mercilessly, but, while one of God's more curious creatures (a fact of which he wasn't too pleased about at this point in time), the fear of it being his last sight in this beautiful world cemented his paralysis.

There was a low, bone reverberating hiss and Diaval's pulse took off.

'Shit, shit, shit!'

Diaval's heart felt swollen and restricted within it's small room. His life-pumper was beating with such ferocious determination you could see it through his chest, the fanatical force of it's rhythm painful. It hurt and he NEEDED it to stop, but hearts do what hearts do and it kept hurting him pulse after every constricting pulse. And he wasn't breathing! His current consciousness fueled only by a few meager fumes leftover from an insufficient inhalation of dense air past sixty seconds ago.

'Mistress help me! What is this!?'

'Panic,' his brain supplied, 'This is panic.'

He could feel it. It was right at his tail feathers. All Diaval had to do was lean back an atom and it would be touching him. Hot breath huffed against him, the heat slipping under and in between his feathers, shocking a sharp gasp from Diaval. Then the moist warmth was drawn back deeply with a dry rasp, leaving a dreadful chill as it inhaled him.

"Greetings, little winged one."

Diaval begged anyone that might reside within his cranium, 'MOVE DANG YOU! PLEASE!'

That bit of magic in his veins took to a boil and the curse was broken. He screamed.

Screamed?  
...

Aquill was at a... fork in the crossroads of his life you might say. He had to choose which path to take, but...

Option 1: Snatch the smaller flyer out of the tree and make off with him.

Or...

Option 2: Snatch the smaller flyer out of the tree and make off with him.

...well something just felt kind of off about those options. Like they conflicted with the free will of his future mate or whatever...

Oh, who was he kidding? He was at least ten times the other's age, very rusty in the art of courting, and too impatient to endure the required (droll) time it would take to get to know this odd creature. It would be a shame to the name of his kind if he forced anything on the strange bird.

Besides that, he did want a willing mate, which would have been a given if said mate were a dragon, being a rather, not widely known, clingy race. Aquill had been pinning hard for the day he'd take another as his own to keep, protect, and cherish.

But then the fairies had come... with their magic and wrath and now there were no more of his lordly kin left to pair with. They were all dead. Except Aquill. He was to remain alone and he would have turned back after he'd discovered that the one who'd called to him wasn't exactly compatible. He would be turning back... if he wasn't so damn fed up with the absurdity of his loneliness. He'd made his decision. But now what little principles he'd managed to keep alive all these years were making getting what he wanted difficult.

Dragons aren't known for being considerate. They took what they wanted whenever it pleased them. Aquill knew this all too intimately, and he could barely hold back now. It's just- He wanted his chosen to 'like' him.

Yup, you heard right. He desired an actual consenting relationship with a being considered less than himself and at the same time he knew he'd take no for an answer. If his father could see Aquill now. He shuddered at that scary thought.

He just didn't know what to do. What would any sane master and terror of the skies, last of a once mighty race do?

He was about to stomp off and find some poor animal to consume maliciously slowly when his genius granted him miraculous recollection of the proper 'how to's' when first meeting your significant other.

He'd start by saying hello.

Decided, Aquill took a tentative step forward, crushing some scant brush underfoot. The alerting noise made him wince and glance up nervously. The object of his questionable affections had stilled and was breathing unhealthily heavy. The glossy black feathered crow obviously knew that Aquill was there. The tensed stance and fearful shaking of the bird upset the dragon and he cursed his sudden clumsiness in his childish excitement to get to his mate.

Calm, steady, and carefully Aquill approached. As he came closer he could visibly see a swirling light magic that covered the crow like a second skin. Pride swell in his armored chest, his mate was no ordinary bird! Of course he wasn't.

His thirsty eyes drank in the small sight of his little bird. His feathers and beak were well kept, his figure proportionately slim, his crooked feet all too cute, and his magic gave him a most individual glow. Aquill smiled, pretty bird indeed.

Then he was there and oh so close, he wouldn't have to move an inch to make first contact. He couldn't- didn't want to -help himself and indulged in a quick breath of his mate's distinct scent. Ooooh, that was simply divine.

Aquill had to have him after that.

Trying to keep hos voice soft and nonthreatening he whispered, "Greetings little winged one."

And everything went wrong. There was a hot flash of magic, a vortex of black and the crow was not a crow anymore. It startled Aquill so, that he hadn't thought to catch his changed mate as he fell from the broken branch and hit the ground at the reptilian's clawed feet.

For a moment the world was frozen as he stared into beautiful, wide black eyes. Burdened wells of hurt and responsibility that Aquill found he would drown in even if he looked away because he would remember the way they acknowledged him with disbelieving forgiveness. The human whimpered once then quit moving.

A wail of failure and distress caught in Aquill's throat.

That was just great! He'd killed him!


End file.
